


A Recollection

by masamune11



Series: Cheating Karma [2]
Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, Mahabharata - Vyasa
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brihannala is F!Arjuna, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-05-23 16:28:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14937834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masamune11/pseuds/masamune11
Summary: What was left unsaid, it became something else.Some moments, told from the perspective of Arjuna.





	1. to yearn, then to admit

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! First of all, I would like to thank you for your support towards [my previous fic in this series](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14287743). Your encouragements have brightened my days in many ways possible... and they become the fuel to my musings.
> 
> Also, while I have confirmed that there will be a sequel to that fic, I cannot, in my conscience, not write some parts relevant to Arjuna. So this fic exists to cover that. It is separate from "A Wish", because these bits and pieces are not known to Karna, even until Arjuna's eventual death.
> 
> Unbeta'ed, but proofread to the best of my ability. Please enjoy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _'How'_ , he wanted to ask if possible, _'how could he hold a higher place than what I have allowed him to?'_

If the words of Lord Shiva had affected him, Arjuna had carefully schooled his expression to hide its effect, as subtly as possible.

He also would like to think that his brother-in-law had not realized the turmoil inside his head, the subtleties relayed by his Lord as he gifted him the most powerful Astra in the realms of the gods. Lord Shiva had taken the form of his brother-in-law to commune with him, claiming that it was the form held close to his heart. ' _How',_ he wanted to ask if possible, ' _how could he hold a higher place than what I have allowed him to?'_

This was the question posed in his heart as he rode slowly, his eyes trained unto Karna's back. A part of him wondered if he could glean unto that answer by tracing his form on the backdrop of the sunset. Yet no divine voice spoke, only Karna's voice calling out to him—a voice that resounded on the day he challenged Arjuna on that Swayamvara, the same one that extracted the promise to keep Panchaali safe, and the one that had shunned him for Arjuna’s failure to protect his wife.

A voice belonging to the one person whom he looked up the most, whose forgiveness he yearned for ( _whose attention he craved like water to a thirsty man)._

"We shall part ways here," Karna decided, the words caught him off-guard. Part ways here? For what? Karna seemed to recognize his unsaid questions and those mismatched eyes seemed to glow a bit fond (almost guilty) in the light of sunset. "I am duty-bound to return to Panchaala, Arjuna. My subjects need me.”

It was in that moment that Arjuna was aware of his own desire to prolong their stay as he wracked his brain to offer a reason for Karna to say. But there was none which he could think of without gaining curious glances, so Arjuna settled with a sullen sigh. "This is unfortunate. I would like if you can accompany me further, but I will not hinder you from your duties."

Karna thanked him for his understanding, and yet his mismatched eyes (Arjuna thought that he would never get used to this jarring change, that he would unconsciously hold his breath when he looked at that red eye, the color of his Lord's eyes) avoided his own ebony at the peak of their farewell, until the man turned away altogether, riding southward to where Panchaala was.

There was something secret, an invisible baggage, that seemed to weigh those shoulders down, making his brother-in-law small... Smaller than who he remembered during Panchaali's Swayamvara.

On the matter of his red eye, Karna disclosed to him, before his departure, that it was a gift from Lord Surya for his excellence and humility. He never got into detail of what his gift was capable, but if it weighed him down this much, dampening his thoughts more than he deserved, Arjuna had all rights to be worried.

* * *

Halfway through his journey to the east, as his father instructed him in his dreams, Krishna greeted him under a lush citrus tree with an easy smile, as if they had not parted for many weeks. Arjuna took this meeting with more spirit, pacing his horse to reach where he was and then rushing to greet the other with a full embrace. If his embrace caused the very air he breathed to be knocked out of Krishna, Arjuna cared not. It had been far too long, after all.

"I am glad that you have been well," Krishna managed through Arjuna's sheer excitement. There was a light glint in those dark eyes as the Yadavan Prince quickly assessed him. Recognition quickly dawning on his face, "and I can see that you've successfully received Lord Shiva's boon... Good, good."

The mention of his Lord quickly stole Arjuna's attention away, long enough for him to realize that he had breached proper courtesy and pulled away, an embarrassed blush adorning his face.

"It has been too long, Krishna," Arjuna managed, through his own superfluity. As much as he delighted seeing this man here with him, Indra's urging at the back of his mind still pulsed, the compulsion to eastward shackling his priority. "Though forgive me for being direct, but what are you doing here?"

On that question, Krishna's smile quickly turned into a grin. "I am here to accompany you to meet with your father."

From that point forward, Krishna joined him on his quest to meet with Indra. He did not even bother to rest for long, urging the other to ride faster even, as if he was on a schedule that could not be compromised. They would rest when night fell and then ride again when dawn broke. It was a long journey filled with few excitements (a relief, considering how 'colorful' Arjuna's previous journey was), a repetitive set of changing days and scenery with side commentaries and counsels, and Arjuna was almost glad when they finally reached their appointed destination—

—which was nothing more than the edge of a ravine, barren of life in general.

He had already seen this scenery before, on his last day in  _Indra Keeladri_  (the shadow of Karna's mismatched glance rousing amidst his memory, and Arjuna fought his best to bury it down and then to focus on matters at hand), graced to him during his sleep. In his dream, Arjuna would walk to the edge with his hand outstretched. The gates of heaven then opened at his signal, then the heavenly beings of his father's realm descended to greet him, to bring him into  _Indraloka._ But there was no sign of them, not even the barest whispers of the wind, and Arjuna could not help but wonder if he was at the right place.

"Shiva has already granted you his boon, and here you are, doubting your father,  _Partha?"_ Krishna commented, a lilt of amusement seeped into his tone. It was in a moment like this that Arjuna was reminded of his cousin's perceptions; that Krishna had the divine within him, so sometimes he could look at the world as the divine could. It was a sliver realization that prompted the other to look at him, mirth painted in his face. "Call upon him like you plead Shiva, and he will answer you."

Arjuna heeded his words and closed his eyes, his heart reaching within him for that sliver of peace—of balance that granted him respite in the middle of silence.  _'Father,'_ he implored in his quietude, _'I beg of you, guide us.'_

 _  
_ "And guide you, he shall."

The feminine voice startled him from his focus, and Arjuna opened his eyes to meet... the fairest woman he had ever see in his life. Her skin was pale, so farfetched from the ideal beauty belonging to the women of the world, and her red hair flowed perpetually as if the wind itself catered to her will. Her eyes were as blue as the sky, holding an intensity that griped on Arjuna to never look away. She was wrapped in a red sari that hugged her curves, a blatant message to entice those of opposite gender.

But most importantly, she was looking at him with a knowing smirk, as if she held a secret that he was not privy of. It made him uncomfortable with his own skin, not only because of her glance... but also how her complexion— _her form in general—_ reminded him of his own brother-in-law.

(Karna would surely disapprove.)

"It is a pleasure to meet you, son of my Lord," she greeted him, her pleasantry a mask of intrigue. When she turned to greet Krishna, however, it fell away to reveal both disdain and respect, "and you, the Avatar. A pleasure."

"Lady Urvashi," Krishna bowed in greeting, though Arjuna could sense a touch of bemusement rather than honor, "Time has been kind to you."

"And it has not cured you of your ignorance, I see," She miffed, but she bowed back in reply to sign her reluctant respect. There was history here, one that Arjuna was reluctant to know, and he just wished that they could get over it if only for those encounters. Fortunately, the woman turned her attention back at him, an open smile decorating her visage. "Your Lord Father desired only your presence, thus the both of you will have to part ways for the time being. I hope you understand."

If Arjuna was displeased with this arrangement, he kept his feelings under wraps. Krishna seemed to notice his distress, however, as the as he reached for his best friend with a calm smile.

"There's no need to grieve,  _Partha_. We shall meet again, soon," he spoke. As Urvashi sang to open the gates to his father's realm, the air turning heavy with power yet light in its movement, Krishna grasped his hand, a quiet urgency underneath that strength, "But before you go, I want to give you an advice: it is only a curse if you let it be."

Such words, light in tone they might be, automatically turned Arjuna's head around in question. But before he could inquire the meaning of it, the lady of  _Indraloka_ had already finished her singing, summoning the golden chariot that would whisk him away to the other side. Krishna belatedly stepped back to let him go, amidst the questions running within Arjuna's head, as if he was delivering his best friend to the jaws of destiny.

Or at least, he thought so, for Arjuna, now sitting within the confines of his father's carriage, wondered why those dark eyes of his best friend glanced at him with a calm melancholy. As if he's witnessing the beginning of an end.

But like the scenery of the ravine before him, the visage of his best friend faded in thousand streaks of starlight as the seven-headed horse that pulled the steed— _Uchchaihshravas_ —pulled the chariot away from the mortal realm. It was an odd experience, to cross the border of the world, and yet Arjuna could not let himself marvel at its uniqueness, not when Krishna's warning dominating his curiosity and wariness.

* * *

Unfortunately, Indra, like any other gods, also had ulterior motives when he invited his son to  _Indraloka_. Arjuna should have known—should have been affronted, even, by the means which Indra used to lure him out—though he accepted whatever tasks that his Lord Father set for him. So, he obeyed; when his father wished destruction upon the  _Nivata-kavachas_ , he did just so, like he razed  _Hiryanpura_  with the help of his father's Astras.

When he returned to his father's abode with victory at hands, the realm blared with fanfares, dances, and hymns. Arjuna was invited to numerous banquets, paraded around the realm (a  _Gandharva_ who served as his lieutenant during their raid once told him that  _Indraloka_ remembered the feats of its dwellers in dances and hymns; that Arjuna's name would forever be immortalized through the sheer number of parties held on his name), until he finally arrived at the gate of his father's palace. It was not his first view of the palace, and yet, Arjuna could not help but marvel at its splendor, the glory and pride that his father put into this magnificent palace of the storm.

Standing staircases away from the gate was Lord Indra, the God of Storm, along with his attendants.

If someone asked Arjuna what his father looked like, he knew for sure that there could never be enough words to describe his....  _wholeness_. Arjuna could have described him as terrifying, like an unending raging storm that sought to destroy. But such description would contradict his grace, in every gentle drop of rain that thrived the land. He was quick like lightning, his mere glance shooting down arguments before they could be made, for he had already made his case the moment his listeners opened their mouths to speak. Arjuna could have described him as silent, like a rolling fog over the surface of the sea; it came and went as it pleased, reveling a stillness that blended with whims.

Arjuna could continue iterating the impressions of his father, and  _it would never be enough_.

Indra motioned his hand at his son.  _'Come,_ ' the wordless order went, accompanied with an encouraging smile that bore no strings (this, Arjuna would know, because of the tasks he was given, Indra had never demonstrated this open expression). So Arjuna climbed the stairs that divided them, with each step surprisingly liberating him in ways his mortal mind could not comprehend. It was as if the realm opened to him with each step taken, a recognition of his presence here not only as the Son of Indra, but something else—something  _more_.

When he finally reached where his Father stood, kneeling in reverence as the world  _waited_ , Arjuna eventually understood—

—for the weight that settled on top of his head, a diadem that glowed with power and  _rush_ , was the sign that his father acknowledged Arjuna's right to rule by his side.

"You have done well, Arjuna. For you, I bestow the right to rule this realm."

For a moment, Arjuna pondered the weight behind those words and decided that they were sincere—as sincere as how his father's realm sang, a backdrop at the back of his mind. Then, with the praises and thoughts of this world linked to his knowledge, Arjuna decided that this was what being divine felt like: boundless, expansive, and  _free_.

* * *

On the matter of his curse with Urvashi, Arjuna would like to think that the bards overplayed his refusal.

The bards, as they iterated, told the mass how the most beautiful nymph of Lord Indra's realm visited his chamber, during the time when he was made a ruler of  _Indraloka_  for a year. She had come with every intention to tempt him, to sleep with him so that the burning passion within her could be sated. But he refused, telling her that she was the wife of his ancestor, thus like a mother to him. She laughed at his words, claiming that such mortal rule mattered not in this heavenly realm under  _his_ authority.

This heavenly realm that, from the back of his mind, also coaxed him to lay with her. 

And yet, he simply  _could_   _not._

It was the shadow of those blue eyes, the fair skin,  _the way she carried herself even_ , that froze him on the spot. When she moved towards him, each step measured to lure him away from his refusal, even his mind fought against the desire that slowly simmered because had he been another man, he would have seen the nymph as she was—but Arjuna could only see  _that man_  in her.

Perhaps she sensed his reluctance in his stillness, or maybe Urvashi possessed the skill to discern mortal thoughts and saw the foremost of his mind: his own brother-in-law, sharing qualities that were so alike to herself. Only when she literally backhanded his right cheek that Arjuna snapped out of his reverie, confusion and fury dawning on his expression as he refocused his attention. 

"You are refusing me," Urvashi's words possessed a contempt that reminded him of his wife's. He should be cowing in fear but having lived with Draupadi's ire towards him and his brothers had made him... resilient, for lack of better word, towards this woman's scorn (he hoped so, at least). Thus, Arjuna straightened his posture, his ebony eyes defiant, as he let silence spoke for his resistance. 

(Because Arjuna was still confused too, about what he really wanted. However, if there was something that he was sure that, it was this: to lay with the woman who was supposed to be his great ancestor was wrong.

But then there was this question, a small thing compared to his overall thoughts, growing like bad cancer that blighted his resolve: ' _If it were Karna, your brother-in-law, will you?_ ')

The nymph seemed to catch that meaningful silence too, mellowing as realization dawned on her. "There is someone else whom you wish to possess," Urvashi mused, her gaze now begrudging, almost furious, though it quickly degenerated into something akin to pity. "Not your wife, no. Someone else... a man."

He could feel his blood leaving his face, feeling ice in its wake. "No!" Arjuna denied when he should have laughed it off like he shuffled his imperfections away from his person, "You don't know what you are talking about!"

"Do I, now?" she rebuked, the pity in her eyes transforming back into fury, "This form that I take so that your mortal mind can comprehend  _me_ , do you really think that it has no meaning? No,  _Kiritin_ , this is the form of your heart's desire, the sum of a person who holds your heart-strings and made you sway by her hand."

A pause, then a cruel smirk that knew no mercy, "Ah, I apologize, I meant  _his_  hand? The greatest warrior of the mortal realm corrupted by his own  _adharma._  What will your brothers think, I won—”

She never got to finish her word, not when Arjuna had physically motioned to hit her, to cause bodily harm because  _those were lies, lies, lies—_

—his hand was met with vapor; the only reason that Urvashi had stopped speaking was that she had disappeared, solidifying once more several meters away from him with thunder behind her gaze.

"I suppose even the greatest of the world could not handle a truth so served before his eyes, could he? I pity you, Arjuna, for a life led in denial is a curse of its own. So, I shall gift you this: when you walk away from this realm, you shall become a woman for the rest of your life, so you may pursue him while keeping your conscience light. This is my gift, and no one shall retract it unless by my hand."

* * *

When his feet finally touched the soil of that ravine once again, it was both with relief and anxiety.

The news of Urvashi's curse (how could it be a blessing when it was forced unto Arjuna without his consent?) traveled fast, reaching Indra's ears the morning after. Arjuna was not involved in the discussion, but his Father eventually persuaded Urvashi to curtail her curse. It was not a full retraction, for it was impossible to remove a curse already carved into the wheels of fate, thus Arjuna was still cursed to be a woman, if only for a year, at his own choosing.

He remembered the day she curtailed her curse, both he and the nymph standing across each other at the center of Indra's court, and saw the determined look in her eyes: ' _You shall walk the land as a woman for a year, at a time of your own choosing,_ Kiritin.  _And when you do, you shall learn the truth about_ that _person_.'

He recalled his father's face growing pallid at the change. Apparently, Urvashi added the last part of her revised curse without Indra's approval. But she shrugged his disapproval off like she did insects at her feet; the most beautiful creature in this realm had her own judgment and consideration, and she displayed it again why she was where she is supposed to be: on top of the food chain, with much influence in the court of  _Indraloka_.

"Ah good, you're here."

Arjuna quickly turned at that familiar voice, once again finding Krishna waiting for him not far from where he stood. His cousin had come to pick him up, it seemed, though Arjuna wondered to himself from whom did he get the news. He decided that it mattered not anyway and motioned towards him. Surprisingly, it was Krishna who greeted him with a hug, not the other way around, as if his best friend was trying to lift his spirit.

It was in that moment that Arjuna recalled Krishna's advice. Pulling away from his friend's hug, Arjuna exclaimed, "You knew that she'll curse me to be a woman!"

There was a shadow passing those dark orbs, but they quickly transformed into something akin to glee. "Bits and pieces, but not the whole thing. Who do you think I am, a  _deva_?"

"No, you're just His incarnate," Arjuna glowered, a little bit of his heart meaning every word. Honestly, if Krishna could just warn him with more definitive instead of out-of-context hints, perhaps Arjuna would be more prepared when his destiny passed.

"True, that I am," he replied, amusement lilting his voice. But Arjuna could sense the slightest tension in his words as if Krishna omitted a something that might save a life if it was brought to the open. 

There was the fear, in Arjuna's heart, that Krishna had known about his feeling, the one tormenting him from the day Urvashi laid her curse on him. If he was, truly, as divine as everyone claimed, surely Krishna could easily pry into his head and judge him where he stood. But Krishna only looked at him with a forlorn smile ( _he knew, how could he not?_ ), and Arjuna wanted the earth to swallow him whole—wanted his life to end right there because  _what else could he do when the cosmos already dictated him to fail as a Kshatriya, for obsessing over not only a man, but his own brother-in-law?_

" _Partha_ ," Krishna spoke, his voice full of warmth and his hands already grasping Arjuna's shaking shoulders, "Anything can only be a curse if you make it be. More so in the matters of the heart."

Previously, he had hoped that Krishna would give more definitive than out-of-context counsel. Now that his counsel became more relevant, born from his encompassing sight, Arjuna wished that Krishna had withheld his advice and claimed ignorance—that Krishna had any shred of mercy in his being and said nothing of Arjuna's tumultuous emotions.

But Krishna had always been merciless in matters of truth, for he carefully pulled his friend's shaking form once more so their foreheads met—so Arjuna could not run away from the gaze that bore into his soul. "You cannot let this poison you,  _Partha_. Please."

They said words held power, and for that reason alone, one must be wary of what he or she spoke. It was not only because those words would motion consequences that fought against oneself, driven by the acts of others, but because the substance of those words would remain, recorded in fate to govern his next life. So why would Krishna, the wise Avatar of Vishnu, ask the very act that would seal his endeavor?

_Why?_

"Because Urvashi is correct," he murmured under his breath, another silent acknowledgment that Krishna  _knew many things,_  and that few were hidden from his sight. "A life in denial is a curse of its own. You have to acknowledge what you truly feel,  _Partha_ , before you can live with sincerity."

Arjuna shut his eyes, trying to hide from those dark far-seeing eyes, and imagined many things: of Karna, who would look at him with derision in his eyes as he learned the truth; of his brothers, who would look at him in shame; of Draupadi, who would look back at him with fury in her eyes, laden with betrayal; and lastly, of Krishna and his crushing disappointment—

"But I am not disappointed, Arjuna," Krishna's words sounded as clear as a stream, his hands reaching for his best friend's face, "I could never be, not with you. So please, let it out. Don't let it fester within."

One breathing, then two... then a choked sob, as Arjuna crumpled under the burden of truth. "I've fallen for him, Krishna. I've fallen for my brother-in-law, who has guided me from the very first time we met. And now... now I don't know what to do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some references:
> 
>   * [Krishna](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Krishna#Life_and_legends)
>   * [Partha](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arjuna#Etymology_and_other_names), an epithet of Arjuna that means "son of Pritha"
>   * [Urvashi](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Urvashi)
>   * [Indraloka](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amaravati_\(mythology\))
>   * [Uchchaihshravas](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Uchchaihshravas)
>   * [Nivata-kavacha and Hiranyapura](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arjuna#Nivata-kavachas_and_Hiranyapura)
>   * [Gandharva](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gandharva)
>   * [Kiritin](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arjuna#Etymology_and_other_names), an epithet of Arjuna that means the one who wears the celestial diadem _Kiriti_ , given by his father Indra
>   * [Deva](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Deva_\(Hinduism\))
> 



	2. fragments of emotion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You, who are dearer to me than any living being in this world... I have done everything in my power to prepare a stage worthy of your performance, so that you may have your justice."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was planning to have this fic suspended until 'A Reflection' reaches certain point, but I change my mind. Some items *can* be written in this fic without jeopardizing the plot next door, so I'm releasing this chapter. Apologies for the lateness.
> 
> As usual, it is unbeta'ed so far, but I have proofread it to my best ability. If you catch any weirdness, grammar, or anything at all, feel free to point out in the comments section!
> 
> Without further ado, please enjoy!

If there was an art in this world to quell the longing in him, Arjuna certainly had not learned it yet.

The days which he spent in exile, along with his brothers, were filled with thoughts of his brother-in-law. Whenever his face resurfaced, at the foremost of his mind, Arjuna would recall his of confession—a truth that was shrouded even from himself, brought forward by his best friend's wisdom—and lamented his overall disposition. Same-sex affairs had always been frowned upon (and to think that he was among those who shunned such practice too, at first, until he realized that his heart had fallen for him), carried in him the fear if this secret is exposed in the future.

He can withstand personal shame, but if his disposition was to bring dishonor to his family too, Arjuna would rather choose death.

Days turned to months until Krishna visited him once more, this time with a request of his own. It was unusual to see displeasure marring his friend's face, particularly when he was waiting for Arjuna by the front door. Even a long-awaited, warm greeting from Panchaali did not seem to lift his spirits. Arjuna wondered what problem had arisen from hell that threw his best friend's mood asunder like this.

"Walk with me, please," he said, just as soon as Arjuna arrived by the front door of his modest housing. Arjuna flashed his wife a questioning look, one that was replied with a grim 'just-do-as-he-requests' look. So the _Madhya Pandava_ did, pacing himself to Krishna's walking speed. There was still some time before the sun fully set—before this edge of forest clearing became a dangerous place to traverse—enough for them to discuss what was ailing his best friend. That is if Krishna was willing to share what was in his mind after all.

They kept walking until Krishna finally stopped by a nearby citrus tree, one that the twins insisted on planting for protection. Arjuna stopped then too, his attention fully focused on his friend, and noted the taut muscles of his face. His friend breathed then, calmly locking eyes with him, as she spoke: "I want you to marry my sister."

For a single moment, Arjuna only stared at him owlishly, as if his best friend had grown a second head.

"You want me to marry your _sister_ ," he recounted again, just to verify. Krishna was still his cousin before he was his best friend, after all, thus making any of the Avatar's sisters (perhaps Vasudeva still had hidden daughters around Dwarka, who knew?) _adharma_ for him to wed. He could feel a headache coming already, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to quell the simmering anger at the base of his stomach. How could Krishna ask him of this when he knew his worst secret?

How could he ask to do the wrong thing, when everything that Arjuna wanted was to be at the right?

Krishna might have already read the thoughts that swirled in his mind, yet he refused to comment as if waiting for Arjuna to lash at him. _'Fine, he would play along.'_

"You know better that it's _adharma_ to wed Subhadra, she and you being my cousins," he pleaded, "and that my heart lies not with her, but another. You know this, and yet still you ask. So at least explain to me why."

It was as if a weight was lifted from Krishna's shoulders, the moment Arjuna voiced his question. Perhaps he had expected worse from Arjuna, considering his demand. But the Pandava had experienced shouldering the weight of ruling one world. He would like to think that he had grown wise in handling himself (in coping with this twelve-years-of-exile trial, because life as a King, even in another world altogether, cannot compare to this meagerness), to shield his thoughts before they were exposed.

Relief that shone in those eyes transformed into pride. Arjuna braced himself still, for he feared the reason behind the man's request.

"Brother Balarama wishes to wed her to Duryodhana," Krishna explained, shadows of derision passing behind those eyes, "while I have vowed not to pick sides unless situation forces my hand, this decision might as well herd Dwarka to the Kaurava's side. You have to prevent this outcome."

" _Then arrange her marriage with someone else,_ " Arjuna exclaimed, flailing his arms to explain his distress, "you could have wedded her to Dhristadyumna! King Draupad will be delighted to ally Panchaala with Dwarka!"

" _It has to be you_ ," Krishna rebuked, his voice firm without cracks, and Arjuna... almost bowed to the tone instilled with that divine authority. Disappointment flashed behind those dark eyes, while Arjuna flinched under the weight of it. But his friend did nothing to further his self-shame, but rather surprising Arjuna by meekly closing in. Krishna reached for his shoulder and gently grasped it, a gesture to comfort rather than to belittle.

"Arjuna," he spoke, the fondness in his tone so subtle like the beat of butterfly wings, "Once, at the start of this exile, you told me that you would do anything to take vengeance on the Kaurava for taking everything away. You, who are dearer to me than any living being in this world... I have done everything in my power to prepare a stage worthy of your performance, so that you may have your justice. This, though it tears at me to do so, is among the favor I ask of you so you may fulfill that wish."

A pause, and then a stricken question, "Or has your heart changed since then?"

Krishna could have pointed to something else then, and yet... the first thing that popped out of Arjuna's mind was of that moment when he realized his fall for his brother-in-law—that, his mind had changed ever since he realized that one forbidden attraction of his. Anger returned in full force, though Arjuna managed to school his expression. "No. My vengeance burns _still_. I still desire justice."

Krishna nodded at his resolve, steel in his dark eyes and dole smile on his lips, "then do your duty, Arjuna. Marry my sister."

 

 

The abduction of Subhadra, Princess of Dwarka, was told by the bards as if they were a couple in love. He smelled Krishna's intervention all over this, perhaps to cover the fact that there was no love shared between them. Or perhaps there was love, though not a kind shared between husband and wife, which Arjuna cherished still.

"We know our places, both in front of the people we serve and the matters of our hearts," Subhadra murmured, moments before their union, her gold saree accentuating the grace that captivated him, "any other women would rebuke from this position, run from this when they can. But I will not, because happiness is how one makes it be, and my life is not solely mine to lead."

She bowed to kiss his hands, as if she was performing the most sacred pledge (and perhaps she did—a promise to herself to do her duty well), and glanced at him, pleading, "The only condition that I ask you, Arjuna, is, to be honest with me, be it in matters of the world, as well as in the matters of the heart."

"I will, Subhadra," he vowed with solemnity, never understanding the gravity of his words... the weight of them. And yet, Arjuna spoke it again, a foolish man who would forever regret his action, "I will."

When he stood there, his glance sweeping around the many faces of his allies, Arjuna was sure that nothing would break his resolve. And yet, when his brown eyes caught the sight of his brother-in-law among them, mismatched eyes veiled with an emotion that tasted like disappointment, Arjuna realized that he was a fool, one who overestimated his own self in the matters of the heart.

(Does his brother-in-law look at him as an oath-breaker now, for taking another as his wife, as if Panchaali no longer held value?)

Perhaps, just like how her brother was wise in the ways of the world, so was Subhadra who noticed the slight tension that gripped upon his form. She wrapped her hand around his own, a soothing gesture amidst the livelihood of their guests (and the breaking of his heart), and whispered, "Persevere, husband, and remember your duty."

Arjuna managed a nod and wondered just how far did she know—how thorough was Krishna in divulging his secret.

* * *

They said time healed hearts... and yet, Arjuna couldn't find in himself to agree with this saying. He would, however, concede that time dulled the pain he bore in his heart, one that was born through his unanswered (unrepentant, foul) yearning towards a person he should never pursue. It did not erase the yearning itself, but the distance he put between them helped, as well as the presences of his wives.

(He will never admit looking at them as distractions, substitutes for a person whom he could never have. Arjuna vowed that this wretched feeling shall not see the light of day.)

That was, until the moment he set foot on Matsya.

He was previously warned, by his best friend, before he (and his brothers, as well as their common wife) started the last year of his exile. Two months before their preparation to depart for Virata's Kingdom, it was Krishna who knocked on their door once more, bearing an air almost similar to when he came to ask Arjuna for a favor. It made himself wary, even when he knew that it was unnecessary. It could have been just his instinct... or maybe, deep down, Arjuna already knew that another next year will be another trial of its own.

Krishna's eyes sparkled with both amusement and pity when he asked him to walk together, again. They stopped at the citrus tree once more, this time with the sun high over their heads, and spoke, "This is the time to invoke Urvashi's curse, my friend."

And Arjuna agreed with him. Among the six of them, it was Arjuna who would have a hard time to blend in with the mass. There was an air about him that could never deliver anonymity as if his great achievements had twisted the very air around him. Invoking Urvashi's curse would change his gender for a year, and it would cover his identity until the end of their exile. Yet, the moment he sounded his thought, Arjuna caught the grief flashed in Krishna's face, as though Arjuna was about to venture through danger and would not escape unscathed.

"Speak to me, my friend," Arjuna pleaded, worry tainting his voice (he would admit that it was both for both Krishna and himself), "Perhaps I could help you in whatever problem that ails you."

But Krishna only flashed him a saddened smile and replied, riddles adorning his words, "When the waves strongly rock your boat, be fluid. Follow its eddies but never let yourself be swept in it. If you do so then, perhaps... perhaps at the end of your journey, you will find the rest that you deserve."

There was a weight that settled at the bottom of his stomach as Krishna delivered his advice in riddles. It was different from the one he spoke before his departure to Indraloka, a short thing that carried both lightness and wistfulness. The weight slowly gnawed at his conscience, worry seeping into his blood even before he could stifle that feeling.

But Arjuna steadied himself, reaching for his best friend's arm as he replied with a kind smile, even when it was forced, "If you mean for me to stay true to myself, _Keshava,_ then I shall heed your counsel."

* * *

The first one to witness his (her, he supposed, now that the curse had activated) transformation was Panchaali.

Her wife hid her amazement quite well, considering how bizarre the situation was. As if to confirm that the curse was true, Panchaali had stepped closer and examined her body, prompting Arjuna to chuckle in glee. She had never thought that this change would evoke such awed reaction from her wife—expected another bout of a verbal lashing, even—and now... now she was just glad that everything went better than expected.

Of course, this was just the beginning.

"Does my form please you, Panchaali?" He asked, stopping as he was mesmerized by his own voice. It was higher, the calmness reflected in his usual tone having transformed into—dare he say it?— _sultriness_. It caused him to cover his mouth with hands, in reflex, as if he had just uttered the most sinful of words—the very image of a flustered Arjuna. This time, the glee that crossed her wife's eyes transformed into amusement.

"Very," her wife snickered, twinkles of laughter in her eyes. For once, looking at this Panchaali evoked a long-forgotten sadness: this was the woman he agreed to marry, the one before his mother demanded her hand to be shared among his brothers too. This was how Panchaali would have looked, had she be his sole wife.

Perhaps her wife caught the flash of pain from her remembrance. As if disrupted from a spell—as if she had realized that, even in female form, she was still talking to her husband—bitterness came back to haunt her visage once again, though the amusement behind her dark eyes did not completely dissipate. Panchaali offered her husband a wan smile instead, hand outstretched to lead her, "come, let's go get you dressed."

So she did, following her wife's guidance. They had gone through this routine for the last two months, after right after Krishna's visit to their humble abode. He had advised Panchaali about the matter, to refresh his knowledge around femininity and poise—the things that Urvashi already taught him during his tenure as the ruler of Indraloka. Her wife helped her dress up as this was still her first time wearing saree, pointing her fault with a nod of patience (one that was much withheld when she was in her male form) and correcting it as she went by. When they were happy with the result, Panchaali moved to do his hair (it was longer under due to the curse), braiding his soft locks with lotus and carnelians, applying various perfumes and oils to make it shine. Only when she was done applying them that the wive of Pandava stepped back and silently admired her work.

Arjuna wouldn't blame her wife: she looked _divine_ despite his meager attire and simple hairdo.

(Once, Krishna told him, with a hint of amusement, that Arjuna's most vital weakness is vanity. _'You would fall for yourself if you were a woman. That, I can guarantee.'_  The joke was almost relevant, now that he was under a curse. Almost, had it not because of her attraction towards her wife's brother.)

"I think," Panchaali swallowed (she could hear it despite the distance between them), "that Lady Urvashi's boon does you good, my husband."

Arjuna would have taken that as an insult (how could Panchaali call this a boon, not a curse?), but he dismissed the comment with a resigned sigh. "The curse will do its job, just like we plan," he said instead, gesturing to the closed door, "now then, shall we introduce Brihannala to everyone?"

Arjuna— _Brihannala_ , he should get used to calling herself that now, the name of a woman who would offer her service to Virata's court, and be comfortable by addressing himself as a _female_ —had expected the reaction of his brothers, at the sight of their brother-turned-sister. Yudhistira looked petrified, eloquence died at the face of _her_ beauty. Bima looked as flabbergasted (as expected). The twins, however, deviated from his expectation by far, as they looked at her with both awe and amusement. She could sense them, the unsaid jokes and jolliness silently traded between the both of them and knew that they took pleasure in this change.

Surprisingly, the first one to recover was Sahadeva, with a quip that followed a grin, "May we call you sister Arjuna when no one's around?"

She scowled, though the edges of her lips were drawn upward in banter, "if you want a death wish, sure."

The joke helped shake them off their astonishment, drawing out overdue laughter. For a moment, her thoughts wandered back to the time when she departed for her father's abode. Krishna told him then, how a curse is just so if he let it be. And now, here she was, the very curse that she feared to become the brief cool balm that soothed their nerves before they started the last year of their exile. Despite the consequences, should they fail this, she could not help but find a bit of solace in her predicament.

It gave her hope that, even if fate decided to rock her boat, she knew that she would get through the turbulence.

* * *

This curse of hers never ceased to amaze.

Through Yudhistira's clever discussion with the King (he had disguised himself as a brahmin who could relate with the King through their shared passion of gambling, of all things, and convinced him to hire her), Brihannala easily entered the Matsyan court, acting as the dance instructor of King Virata's daughter. Princess Uttaraa was a kind girl on her way to a proper _S_ _wayamvar_ , displaying a demeanor befitting of a virtuous woman—

—except, as her maids had shared with her, the Princess had a poor dancing skill. Three days into her role as a dance instructor, she was faced with one time too many fumbling, a torn scarf, confused maids, and Brihannala's patience running thin. Only on the fourth day, when Uttaraa was on her knees, too tired and too eager to give up, did her patience snap.

_Calm. Caaaaalm._ She bit her lips as her composure dangled on the frayed edges of her snapped patience. "Princess," she started, the coldness in her voice made the maids and the dance-girls in the room stunned in their place, "please forgive the things that I am going to say, for it is my duty to educate, both in skills and attitude."

She remembered the gruesome verbal lashing that Urvashi and her entourage of dance instructors threw at her during her tenure as a celestial ruler (it was not that he's a poor student; students sometimes made mistakes, and the one time he did, the celestial nymph would roast him like she did any of her disciples), trying to tone down her next words; not everyone's ego can survive such beating, after all.

Uttaraa was looking at her, waiting. Good, even if she wants to give up, she is still willing to listen, Brihannala thought for a moment, eyes glinting with solemnity. "Your title as a Princess of this Kingdom meant that you have a duty to your people. Duty that came with hurdles, with trials. You, who have strived through the challenges as a royalty, _you have no right to quit now_ , Princess."

She had expected the disappointment and shame behind those dark eyes, quickly transforming into _rage_. What the dance instructor did not foresee, however, was how the Princess quickly gathered her bearing, the rage reforming into determination and a desire to win. They reminded her of the seething fire behind Panchaali's eyes.

"Please, _teacher_ ," the princess gently rebuked, a quiet strength behind false meekness, "I... I am not done. With your blessing, I would like to continue under your tutelage."

Such words were like a sacred vow to her, one she used to remind the young princess whenever she was almost at the edge of giving up. Her determination bore fruit, with the time they spent to improve the Princess' skills. Brihannala's reputation, too, soared with it, bringing her closer with the assembly of Matsyan court.

It was only a matter of time before she offered advice on many matters: governance, economics, justice, proceedings, and so on. While she was not as learned as his elder brother, she knew enough to impress. It was not long before even she stole the attention of King Virata while gaining the favor of Queen Sudeshna—an almost impossible feat, considering how tightly knitted the two were, in matters of their Kingdom. Soon enough, Brihannala was known as The Other Woman, influencing Matsyan's state affairs with her wit.

If there were rumors indicting her decorum as a virtuous woman for the influence she held over the court, Brihannala let them be.

Days trickled like water escaping her grasp, so definitely, though not without hitches. Sometimes she would cross path with Panchaali, who had assumed the identity as the Queen's handmaiden, and noted the weariness etched on her face. Considering how she witnessed the Queen's wiles firsthand, Brihannala could only sympathize with her wife's disposition—wiles that, perhaps, were much more demanding than she and her brothers' combined. Her wife sometimes lamented her positions, subtle her complaints might be, and Brihannala would try to soothe her exhaustion. Curse aside, she was still duty-bound to fulfill her role as her husband after all (it was her year to be Panchaali's husband), and based on this thought that she appeased her proud wife. Even then, she would like to believe that she had performed her duty that year well.

(The morning after, there was not much exchanged between them. In this silence that Panchaali's appreciation laid—that, and in the way she breathed Brihannala's name as her husband pleasured her thoroughly. Brihannala's belief was based on this experience.)

She learned much of her wife that year, more than she did in her previous years. The irony of how she had to be cursed first in order to better understand (and empathize with) her wife did not escape him, serving only to remind her again and again of Krishna's words: _it was a curse if you let it be_. Thus, Brihannala learned, step-by-step, to take the silver lining of this curse—

—that was, until she met _him_ , once more.

 

 

Years had passed since their last meeting—years that should have put out the flames within her to mere embers, sated only by the counsels of her wife. What they did to her for years, _Karna_ unraveled it with a curious glance. And like the torrential force of the Ganges, everything pertaining this curse of hers returned: of Urvashi's _blessing_  so that she may stay true to herself without remorse, of Krishna's advice to let to make this a boon instead of a curse, of Uttaraa's determination to fulfill not only her duty but also her passion, and of Subhadra's urging to persevere; every one of them, pushing her to greet her destiny (her love, her hesitation, her truth).

So she swallowed her fear and tried to welcome it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some references:  
> 
> 
>   * **Madhya Pandava:** ephitet of Arjuna, which means the middle son of Pandu
>   * **Keshava:** ephitet of Krishna, slayer of the demon Kishi
>   * **Subhadra:** sister of Krishna, wife of Arjuna, mother of Abhimanyu
> 

> 
> ~~And yes, you're not hallucinating, there was Arjuna/Draupadi yuri session, thank you.~~


End file.
